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To Ask and to Answer (Short Story)
To Ask and to Answer is a short story written by Tyler Santinelli as Zhann Carcerri, also appearing is Inquisitor Jasper Catherwood . To Ask and to Answer I was incredulous. They were putting on a good show of it, but if the Watchers were real you couldn’t just summon one up and interrogate it. Though, I had to admit, the candles made for a good atmosphere, and I had learned a good deal about my friends during the ‘what are you willing to give’ section, Saerah most of all. The triangle inside a circle, all chalk and salt and bone dust, was meticulously placed, with candles at the points where they touched the wall of the thing. More candles lined the walls of the dark room, and low burning as they now were, they were the only source of light. The ritual took ‘exactly as long as it takes’ as Jonnah said, which at this point must have been hours. Where he had gotten all this information he didn’t say, though occasionally he would consult a hand-written notebook. We were long enough in to a particular chant that the words had lost their meaning to him, and he ached to end this silly show, when a wind rose in the room. It did not blow out the candles in a rush, it was not a maelstrom, it was not bombastic. It was as if we had opened a window to let a cool breeze in. A musty smell pricked at my nose, mixed with the smell of incense, and a faint fog settled on the floor of the room. Just as the cold had come, so did he. Not with a bang or a flash or in an extinguishing gust, but he was just there. My eyes simply resolved around the figure. I was shocked to see a man, no horns, no great singular eye and sharpened teeth, no blood dripping from talons. He was tall, in what looked like ceremonial robes, open in front to show tall polished boots, pants, and a rich sash over a vest, buttoned up to his neck. A silver scent box hung from his neck, an orb with one opening at its top, its detailing obscured by wear. Over his eyes were black lenses, circular, a peculiarly common affectation against the rich cloth of the man’s robes. The three of us quieted as one, and stared at the man before us. He did not move, just looked each of us up and down in turn, and said in deep, measured tones ‘What would you ask of me? Jonnah?’ He was thinking the same thing as I, how did he know our names? ‘I... ‘ he stammered, his usually crisp voice honed from years of shouting over great machinery in the Metier district, suddenly small. ‘My brother is lost. He was Sanctus, followed Hyde. I wish him found returned to us.’ Jonnah had all of the man’s focus now, and he turned toward him as he paced the inside of the triangle, his eyes seemed to look inside the smaller man rather than just at him, some mark or tattoo on his right eye giving him a menacing character. ‘And what would you give for this?’ and before my friend could respond he held up a broad hand ‘you must know I care not for that old book you brought for the purpose. It may be old to you, but it is no prize.’ It was an heirloom passed down through his family, an account of the Siege of New Byzantium, by an ancestral witness, describing the actions of citizens, now saints, and the Emperors to rebuff the invading forces of the Dull. Jonnah’s plans clearly dashed, he fumbled for something to offer the thing before him. ‘Of your line you shall give to us each third child.’ The statement hung in the air a moment before Jonnah nodded his assent. I am told that he now blames panic, but his brother had been everything to him, and his family was in shambles at his disappearance. ‘Done.’ With an air of finality the man turned to Saerah. With a furtive look at the two of us she faced the thing we had summoned more bravely than either of us. She looked defiantly in his eyes and said ‘Revenge. The Dull destroyed my home. Only a few of us managed to escape, but the governor and his ilk were the first to go. They knew the Enemy was coming, and instead of preparing, they ran. I would see them pay.’ That slight, soft spoken Saerah, with her quiet canvas shoes and demure grace could hold such a will shocked me, but what shook my senses more was what she offered in exchange. ‘And I offer my self. My whole self. I have nothing left to me.’ ‘Done’ was all he said. The bastard said it with a chuckle and a broad smile, like it was a great joke. With horror I watched an inky black hand reach out from behind her and rest tenderly on her shoulder. Another robed figure had appeared, this one with its hood pulled down low. It carried two curved swords at its belt. She relaxed into that touch, and the two of them fell into the shadows of the floor. I never saw Saerah again, though a note was left once at my door bearing her signature. Jonnah had collapsed to his knees, clutching himself and shivering, as the abominable thing turned toward me. His hand held the scent box on its chain, he ran his thumb along the detailing absently. I steeled my self and spoke as clearly as I could, ‘What is your name?’ This took him aback. The smile was gone, replaced with a simmering anger and a defiant glare; to my horror he stepped out of the circle I thought held him. ‘I am Zhann Carcerri of the Watching Eye.’ Paralyzed as I was I did not budge as he extended his hand and cupped my chin, angling my face toward his ‘What game do you think you are playing, Nathaniel?’ I was silent for a moment. The room was dark, as more figures had resolved all around the room, the light from candles blocked by billowing robes. As his fingers dug into my jaw I heard a commotion coming from outside the room, shouting and boots crashing on doors. This caught Carcerri’s attention. With a crash the door to the chamber which had become such a blasphemous den opened, casting a harsh light and silhouetting a thin man holding a sleek revolver. ‘We are not done with you,’ was all Zhann said before making a practiced gesture, like a conductor getting the attention of his orchestra. They were gone in an instant, as silently as they had come. The warm air from the hall fogged Nathaniel’s glasses, and the previously silhouetted man took him by the shoulders, shouting something and shaking him. For a moment through the fog the face looked like Carcerri’s. Sunken, piercing eyes, and a mark of some kind dominating the face, spreading from one eye. ‘Which of them was it? Did you get his name? Wait, where is your third? What happened, Nathaniel?’ How do all of these people know my name? ‘They took Saerah. Is Jonnah okay?’ Through clenched teeth he said ‘His name,’ as more figures in heavy grey wool entered the room. ‘Carcerri. But, there were more...’ A tension went out of the man, but he was not relieved. ‘Listen, you aren’t in trouble son, but… you’re going to need to come with us for a while. My name is Jasper.’ I have not seen Jonnah since that day, but they tell me he is alive and well, if shaken. He lives with his family, including the returned brother, though whether that is for the best I cannot say. As I have said, Saerah is gone. I’ve been doing a lot of reading here. These folks have an extensive library. I know I’ll see those people again, those Watchers, and I plan to be ready.